A Tale
by RoughDiver
Summary: An unfinished tale of fantasy


LANINGTON

The Day was overcast and chilly, wind was blowing from the west and it gave no sign of stopping soon. The castle had stood over the sharp cliffs for thousand of years and on the morning of that day gave no sign of otherwise, even if the waves underneath had bettered the rocks for ages and they were nearly on the point of collapsing and taking the ruined castle with them in the cold deep abys.

A man was standing over a grey rock covered in lichen. He was no more than thirty-five, his short blonde hair wet from all the rain he had endured although he did not seem to mind that, as if the rock he was watching at attracted him in a total different world, leaving this one behind along with the rain and bone chilling wind. The stone he was looking at, contemplating it, was almost as old as the ruined castle in which it was placed. The Last Light, the name of the castle had once been, the last welcoming and comforting light that could have been seen by sailors and adventurers of the old who would set out on perilous and demanding task and trips that held no certainty of reward or completion, journeys from which no man would return, sane, at least. It had been here where the proud and arrogant, Moon King Sarrwyn, said that not even the Blue God himself can tear down his mighty stone walls. Needless to say that the god had proved him otherwise. The night had been still and warm when a wild summer storm suddenly appeared from the west and the strong walls of the vain king disappeared in the boiling sea below forever, nothing but a few rocks remained as a reminder to mortals, that gods, no matter which, take no offense. Since then a shrine had been dedicated to the god of the sea, the Blue God, on the place where the king's castle had once stood.

"The gods are cruel, my lord" a voice said, attracting the attention of the thoughts-drifting man.

"Indeed they are" the man responded, ripped suddenly from his day dreaming "I've always thought that the Moon Kings had more pride than sense, it seems that my opinion is shared by the gods" the man lifted his fingers from the cold stone and brought them together, while looking at the voice which pulled him out of his contemplations. "What do you think, Jalon? Were Moon Kings extremely proud?" asked the tall blonde man. The one across him took a moment to think and then came back with the smartest answer that he could have produced "I wouldn't know, sire, I've only known one king…" his strange mismatched eyes glowing in a mysterious way.

"You are too kind, my good Keep Master, why have you come here, I ask you?" his smile looking sad and tired.

"My Lord Lanington, I come bearing news, the council has spoken, they've proclaimed you King of the Arm, it's time to take what is yours, come, ride with me victorious and take the crown that has righteously been placed on your fair head!" Jalon said the words with a strong voice, a voice filled with confidence and a hint of commandment, his teeth clenching so fiercely that they appeared close to breaking.

"Are you mad Salador?" his liege lord asked him on an amused tone, rather than interested "There hasn't been a King of the Arm for more than a thousand years, the last one was the king of no more than a stony shore, the king of seagull filth and salt rock his few subjects called him" Lanington took a sudden break as if to prepare the man in front of him for an answer that would offend him "…I most graciously thank the council for their proof of independence and courage, and I must confess that I feel honored but I'm no more than Lord Regent of the Empyrus Keep" his eyes staring boldly into Salador's " so therefore" he continued with a rare calmness in his voice "I must refuse, no matter how much I want this, my duty is strictly to my father and his domains alone, not to the arm…" weather had begun to change during the fervid discussion between the two men, and now frozen snow was taking place of the cold rain, frozen drops of water that laid swiftly on the blonde's man head, forming a frozen crown. It was a while until one of them decided to break the still silent that had settled over the ruins that once had been the Last Light. The Keep Master talked first "Your father, may the Almighty protect him, is probably dead, my lord, and when he left for his doomed quest he told me to look after a king, not a simple lord, he wanted this fate for you, this fate that it was denied to him. He left his domains strong and wealthy, full of trustworthy and loyal men, men that would die for his cause, but Lord Ralyn is no more, he's been gone for twelve years now and you are a man grown, in his prime youth, ready to assume command of the burden that has been lain on you, and by the way how was the Oath of Truth that you took as Lord Regent?" Salador could see doubt and wanton in Lanington's eyes, lust and chastity fighting for his soul, it was moments later when his master finally talked.

"If what you say is true, if my people really trust me and have indeed proclaimed me their king now and forever, my oath compels me to uphold and respect any decision that is made by those who represent them, those who display their will and wishes to me, the Council of Command, so that means I have to be a king, doesn't it?" the air surrounding the tall man seemed to shiver as if the man himself radiated some kind of warmness, his deep blue eyes giving no sign of what was happening inside him.

"And what a king you shall be, your grace, a king that will be held forever as a standard and figure of strength and wisdom, a king that ruled his subjects swift and just, a king that gave his enemies no mercy and peace and bountifulness to those who followed and heed his words of wisdom, a king crowned by the people through the will of The Almighty himself, Lanington, first of his name, Lord of Empyrus Keep, King of the Arm and of the Rhonyans, the wise king, the strong king, the great king!" Salador's voice was stronger than the wind itself, his mouth twisting and swirling with every word coming out of him, the man to whom they were addressed listening them uninterested and still as a summer afternoon. When his servant finally finished his impressing plead, the tall blonde man saddled his horse, mounted it and told the unmounted man, that seemed shrugged and insignificant in comparison with his lord.

"Better mount your horse too, Keep Master, come, take me to the crown that has been given to me, it seems that I shall be a king…" his horse starting off down the narrow track, followed by the horse of his lord's subject, the air filled with frozen snow and the sound of hooves on the fresh laid snow.

ARLIN

The Hall of Sovereigns was a huge cold place made out of stone and steel.

It was cold and gloomy in the hall, the four giant solar windows barely leaving the natural light trough, not that the natural light would have been a great improvement. It was midday already and outside was wet and windy from having rained during the night.

The atmosphere was perfectly for the matters that were being discussed under the heavy steel roof of the hall. Under it, people seemed like ants seeking shelter under a mushroom or a fresh dropped leaf, the giant roof looming over their heads protecting them from wind and cold.

Under the shelter of the roof, stood a great oaken table, old and heavy, its edges showing the pass of time, and around it there were angry people. There couldn't have been more than eight people in the hall, but the voices that echoed against the strangely carved walls, made to look as if there were double or triple that number.

The voices were screaming, shouting, then stopping suddenly only to start again after a few minutes of complete silence, with nothing to be heard but the wind blowing outside.

A man, seated at the head of the table, stood up and demanded silence, the others respected his will, all those who had been standing up earlier and had screamed and shouted, were now seated and awaited the man from the head of the table to start talking. The man started to talk, his voice was weary and calm, with some kind of resignation in it. The words he said appeared to be on the liking of those that stood around the table, as if they were tamed by the man himself and his magical words.

"I understand the situation perfectly, Lord Humffred" the calm man sought with his looks a fragil and old man at the other end of the table. "and I also understand that the common people, no matter how common and small they are, deserve to be represented by one of their kind and not by a lordling or industrial master. Now I know that among these worthy people are agitators and foreign spies who seek nothing more than to create chaos and mistrust in our great city, this fellow you have told me about, Chancellor Quell, this "rebel", Tylos, or what his name is, this worker, he's been creating trouble you say?" he turned to a man behind him, his eyes peacefully awaiting the questioned man's answer.

"Yes, my lord, this is Damiss Tylos, a rude creature and a malevolent one, he leads a worker's syndicate named "The Ones who Work", his syndicate has been attracting more and more members ever since it was formed five months ago. They claim to protect the order and justice and to fight for the rights of the common man, but in the truth their actions have done nothing to sustain this claim." The voice of the chancellor was fiery and strong, compared to the one of his master's.

"Lord Arlin" a voice called out "please hear me!" The one who called for the lord's attention was a broad shoulder man, taller than anyone at the table. He wore a chest plate, gilded with silver, its inlays, representing a proud feathery griffin looking somewhere adrift. The one in the gilded plate appeared to be no older than fifty, his brown moustache was now a shadow of what it must have been when he had been younger. His eyes seemed to look at Lord Arlin, but in truth they too, like the one's of the griffin which stood fiercely on his chest, were adrift, maybe in a distant time or a far away thought. He spoke, as he had asked his lord, his voice was on the measure of his look, a harsh voice, with no soothing tone, the voice of a military man, a voice of one who knows no comfort and seeks no pleasure, the voice of a strong and loyal man. The Lord listened him with a glare of interest in his eyes. Arlin was no fool when it came to important matter, like this one, so his mind was fully at the problem presented by the military man.

"My lord" he took a short break to catch his breath "in the end all I ask is to consider my preposition, and if the need arises, I ask your permission to put an end to the life of this so called "syndicate"." The griffin man draw the conclusion as he bowed to Arlin and seated himself back where he had risen from to present his opinion.

When it was quiet again in the hall, the lord rose up, he kept the quitness for a moment and then he talked.

"My General-Defender, Fillon Thorolyn, I thank you for your interest and support in this matter, if the situation proves to hard to be taken care of peacefully , then you have my word that you and your mighty garrison shall restore the Order." He looked at Thorolyn with a kind smile, but after a moment he moved his eyes over the entire table. "My good councilors, all your advice are wise and full of experience, and I couldn't thank the Almighty more for what, capable and just adviser he has provided me with" his voice was as welcoming and gentle as a breeze of wind on a hot summer night, his eyes giving warm and careful look to all seated around the table "I shall reflect upon every idea that has been laid here, today on me, and I assure you that my final decision is going to be one that will benefit every citizen of our fair and wonderful city." He raised, and along with him, all the man that had been seated until then, he bid them a good day and they bowed and bid him a good day too. Arlin's head was pounding like a drum during a summer harvest festival, it had been pounding all the time during the meeting with his advisors, but he had not showed it, his father had told him once that a good leader does not let out his inner pains to his servants because that would make him weak in their eyes, and a strong leader should not be weak of body, but strong of mind and body too. The words of his father were ringing in his head. He made his way to the back door, the door reserved for the lord, with his personal guard behind him.

"Dalon, you're dismissed, I shall not require you today anymore, go, drink something to my health" Arlin said, as he was almost ready to climb the stairs that led up to his chambers, located in the tallest tower from Layon Stronghold.

"I will my Lord, may the Almighty watch over you this night, as he has done so many nights." Dalon saluted his master, and left down the hall with long strides, as if he was flying above the ground. Arlin watched him until he vanished beyond an iron door, the door closing with a squeaking sound. After that it was silence.

Arlin began to ascend to his chambers, he usually took the steam powered elevator that delieverd him to his quarters, but the elevator had broken two weeks ago, the Tower Master had sent for a mechanic to fix the elevator. The mechanic had come and gone, and the elevator was now still broken.

"_The mechanic said that it would take to long to fix the steam pipes, he said they had been built more than one hundred years ago, and that they had to burst open at any time. Maybe I should use the underground pools to make the elevator ascend and descend, use the power of the falling water..._" he thought as he was climbing the spiraling stairs.

Layon Stronghold was an old place, built more than a thousand years ago. It had originally started as a reconnaissance keep, built in an open field and beyond the Pintops Mountains by a few Rhonyan adventurers. Since then the settlement had grown, from a keep to an important trade town, from a trade town to a regional capital for the lands that were stretching over the rocky Pintops Mountains and belonged to the Rhonyans that lived on the northern side of the mountains, on the Fist. And finally the fortified town, had turned to a stronghold, a city bustling with life and crowded, narrow hidden streets, an expression of a strange, slim, tall and grey architecture. The Stronghold of Layon or Layon Stronghold for its people. Layon family had been ruling over the city as its protectors and benefactors ever since it had been founded. The first Layon was said to have been one of the Rhonyan adventurers, who eventually had severed off all the connections with his people beyond the mountains.

Arlin reached his chamber's door. He pushed the massive pinewood door and entered in his suits.

His living quarters were large, sprawling over the entire top floor of the Tower of the Stars or more well known, by the common people, under the name of The Lord's Tower.

The lord suit was formed by three huge chambers connected by smaller rooms and hallways, there was also a spacious terrace, from which the city's master looked over his subjects, loyal or not.

The chambers were lit by the torches placed on the walls, each torch was mirrored by another on the parallel wall. Outside the night had come and it was cold and rainy.

Arlin threw his cloak with the stronghold seal pinned to it in a cherry wooden box placed in front of his bed. He washed himself and then went out on the balcony to feel the rain on his cheeks and on his eyebrows. The night air was fresh and recomforting, freezing the sweat on Arlin's skin and giving him an eerie pleasure. After he spent a few more minutes on the terrace covered in rain and darkness, Arlin went back inside and to his massive bed. A soft bed was, at the end of a busy and restless day, the greatest thing in the world. Arlin couldn't agree more. He laid to his bed, stretching his feet all along the welcoming mattress as if he wanted to reach the highest state of relaxation. Shortly after, his lids collapsed under the heavy weight of an exhausting day. He slept in peace dreaming of childhood and times long past.

Morning came and with it the peaceful sleep ended.

He woke up sweating. It was cold in the room, he had forgotten to close the window when he had gone to sleep so it had been open all night long. Arlin picked himself from the warm, soft bed and made his way to the wardrobe.

The wardrobe was a wide, open hole in the eastern wall, shielded by two massive chestnut wood. When he opened the doors a warmth air touched his sleepy face.

Arlin chose a pair of blue pants made of a fine wool, a shirt, plain and white, of cotton and over his shoulder he drew a greenish-yellow coat made from studded leather. He was ready to face a new day.

The breakfast was awaiting him in the dayroom, it had been brought by a servant who also left a note for him.

Arlin did not eat in the morning at all, he used to eat after he had heard all the problems that were brought to him, only after that he could concentrate on such a delicate and boring thing as eating. Nevertheless he put a black and juicy grape in his mouth, the taste of the grape brought an immense pleasure to his tongue. He read the note carefully and with patience. The words were wrote clearly on the white sheet of paper, they had been written by one of his secretaries, he knew that, from the strange loophole that letter "L" had, Orlon, he thought as he was trying to comprehend the message of the text.

The letters had been put on the paper in a great haste, that much could be seen, he read the text as it was written down:

"_Lanington of Empyrus Keep has been proclaimed king, he will embark on different journeys to seek friends for his new reign and establish trade routes. Chief of Spies tells that King Lanington will reach Layon Stronghold in a fortnight. Immediate action is required_."

Arlin felt dizzy, he sought a chair, he found one by the balcony, he threw his body into it, and left the carefully rolled parchment fall from his pale hand. How could it be possible? A king of the Rhonyans, Rhonyans have no kings, no ruler, only rulers, could this new made king threaten his city? Even more he knew the man, they had been both wards of the Lord of Skyhall, friends even in a time when life had been more easy and pleasant, but now, he was not sure what to believe…. could friendship last in a world such as this? At this question, only time would answer….

9


End file.
